A little victory

Up and having avocado on toast with Mum. She had her covid jab yesterday, and her arm was a bit painful but otherwise okay. Mum had not been able to get the new carpet cleaner to work, and bits of a spring valve had fallen out when she tried to get it going. I was able to piece it together and thankfully the machine sprang back into life, and I set about the carpets. Certainly an improvement, but not a transformation. Then we looked at Mum's hideous tax things, but after finding all the stuff, the actual tax form to be completed was missing -- mum later called them and got them to resend. One good thing:  the parking fines mum had during the time her car was stolen -- and we disputed -- have finally been dropped. A little victory over jobsworth bastards.

I texted Wynford, to say Mum and I were thinking of him, as he was taken to hospital recently. He replied saying he should be out on Monday. He has been very kind to Mum.

After a while, off to The Jolly Badger. On our way in, we bumped into a man called Barry who was shocked when she told him about Mas, and was stroking her hand. I am always surprised at how many people know Mum.  

Weirdly, for the Jolly Badger, everything was properly cooked, and the salads were healthy and I really enjoyed the meal.  We had a server called Kay, who remembered Mum's order, and asked after Mas and was sad to hear about him. She always looks after us well and her kindness shines out. On the next table two Irish traveller women with a girl of about eleven. Fascinated by their orange skin and enormous lashes and botoxed lips, and the fact they were dressed as if off to a nightclub, rather than a Harvester at lunchtime.  I felt a bit sad that these were the young girl's role models -- but that says more about my prejudices. 

Back to Seaford by train. A fairly painless journey, and made it home in under two and a half hours. Showered, fed cats, and spoke to Lorraine, who was visiting Pat and Maureen, and then made off to The Boot for a few beers with Steve, talking about his band and the saxophone, and how rifling works on gun barrels, and the galling-ness of being continually shortlisted for things but never winning (me), and the surprising niceness of Director's bitter. 

Home and happy to end the day with Lorraine, not long arrived from Ashford, on the gold sofa. All well.